A Dumb Human Like You
by EllesBeth MidnightSparrow
Summary: FutureFic: When Kurt Hummel moves to New York to finish college, can the memories of a past love sweep him away?  Will his life ever be the same?  Rated M for smut in Ch. 4, and general fluffiness.
1. Chapter 1

((A/N: First attempt at Klaine, I've succumbed.))

**Rating**:T and one alcohol reference, will be M later.

**Summary**: Kurt Hummel is breaking out of the boring, and heading to the city that never sleeps! Will he be able to overcome the unexpected memories that are attached to an old love?

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><p>The soft warmth of the summer morning sifted through the window of my town home. The sunshine dappled across my skin, painting patterns on the sensitive parts of my shoulders and upper arms. I remembered that it was finally Friday. Friday was empty for me most of the time, and that allowed for much more sleep than I usually expected to get while working. I awoke with a groan and the creaking of my joints. I loved this feeling of waking up late, no plans.<p>

'_Wait, I do have plans,_' I thought, rubbing my eye sockets dryly, _'Damn you, Finn.'_

That's right, I had agreed to meet my step-brother Friday afternoons for lunch, since we lived so close.

I guess I always thought that I would end up moving across the country, leaving all of my past behind for forge a path of my own. Whether time got away from me, or I somehow found charismatic charm to my hometown, I never left the borders of Ohio. I was a twenty minute drive from Dad and Carole's house, and the majority of my Glee friends.

I gave up on becoming awake by kneading my eyes, and glanced to my bedside clock. Morning was running into afternoon and I had an hour to be ready, no time in my opinion.

My skin regimen would need to be stricter and the plumes of spiky hair would need to be tamed faster. I would be cutting it way too close. I was right, I was pulling out of the driveway five minutes too late.

I flipped my iPod on shuffle and hummed along to the Lady Gaga tune, sweet closure.

I never understood why Finn liked to have these little pow-wows every other week. I guess he got the tell me all about his love life in that step-brotherly way, and he lets me talk about school. My college life was far from glamorous, but it's all I had going for myself. Nothing in Ohio gave me a thrill, and I needed to be able to leave the comfort of my home.

I pulled up to the swank little coffee shop and found Finn sitting by the back, a goofy smile creased his face when he saw me.

"Dude, Kurt, long time no see."

"Seriously, Finn? You saw me in the grocery store by happenstance like, a week ago," I said, sitting across from him with a small smile.

"I know, it is what it is."

"I'm not looking for deep insight into the encounter, let's just go and get our coffee," I said, leading to the order-line. We stood through a comfortable silence.

"How's it going with Tracey?" I asked, wanting to keep the conversation light.

"Man, it's great, life's great, she's great," Finn said with a contented sigh while we ordered. I recalled the woman; long brown mane of hair and a bubbly and kind personality, and all-around sweet-heart.

"That sounds. . .great," I muttered as we walked back with our lattes.

"Yeah," Finn breathed half-mindedly, he seemed to snap out of his trance, "How about you?"

"As if you don't already know," I said with a small frown.

"Just askin'"

"Sure."

"You still taking classes for your degree?" Finn changed the subject amid sips and bites of a monstrous muffin.

"Yep, I'll be transferring to New York in the next week, I'll be gone for half a year, tops," I said nonchalantly into my coffee cup.

"It sucks you'll be leaving, we'll miss you for real," he said with a look of worry on his face.

"Don't sweat it, I'll be back before you know it, and then I'll have presents for everyone. I'll be like a Santa Clause trainee, or something," I said with a bit of snark.

Finn cracked up, saying that would be fine.

That lightened the mood, and kept the conversation rolling on the mundane.

Before I knew it an hour had passed, and Finn needed to get back working at the auto-shop. We soon said farewell, and went our separate ways.

It's true, part of me wanted to be alongside my dad, up to my elbows in car parts and motor oil. However, a larger part of me didn't roll that way. Being out of high school for three years had made the horizon much, much bigger. In two terms of college, I would get my degree and be able to design clothes anywhere I could dream of. I would entertain daydreams of owning my own line, enough plaid for an eternity of designing. It would be heaven. The degree was within my grasp, and New York would be the door to all these things.

The following morning was spent loading up belongings, saying teary goodbyes and lots of double-checking. I can't be forgetting some lotion or article of clothing that would cost me mucho denero to replace. Boarding the plane was no problem, just bustling people and confusing signs.

I was fortunate enough to acquire a window seat, and sitting next to a woman with a sleeping baby would be fine, if not potentially problematic. We would be taking off in a few minutes, primo time to surf the web. Facebook was desolate, aside from the onslaught of well-wishes from friends. I was halfway through browsing Youtube when a small red notification blipped on my Facebook tab. The plane lurched and took off, and I felt my gut twist and churn. My lip contorted into a grimace. I read the following:

_Blaine Anderson has requested to be friends!_

It then asked as to whether or not to accept the invitation. I probably looked as sick as I thought I would be.

'_The hell?' _I thought, _'I thought I blocked him. God, blast from the past.'_

Blaine's profile picture was him, obviously in a club, holding a red cup aloft into the massive crowd behind him. The goofy, and slightly dopey smile painted across his face sent shivers through my body.

'_Still partying, huh?_' I thought bitterly, clicking on his pictures.

Of the almost six hundred photos of him, most were in clubs or bars. He knew how to pose his body, you have to give him that. He was pulling off sexy like he bathed in it, never a single hair out of place. There was a series of photos of him in the arms of another man, the two happy and smiling to the other. No deep, seething jealousy rose in me like I thought there would. The photos of him with this man escalated to serious make-out, ew. This is Facebook, we don't need things to be _that_ personal. I felt my pulse rising dangerously high, memories broke through that I haven't thought of in years. Tears welled to my eyes, hot anger coursed like acid through my very being. I felt both the need to crawl into a hole, and scream to the world my frustrations.

Blaine had been my first at everything, I mean _everything_, he'd taken me from my awkward and non-existent love life to a new feeling of being wanted. But, I suppose the chemicals wear off and when you begin to actually sober up, it's too late and you're knee-deep in a relationship you weren't ready for. Perhaps this was what pushed Blaine to dump me and leave me while he endeavored through every house party to kingdom come. I don't know, I don't bother to wonder any more.

The people around me carried on while my ex-boyfriend stared me down from behind a shot-glass, or a thick mop of curls. My energy drained; I was spent.

With exasperated sigh I pressed the 'ignore' button with more flourish than necessary and snapped the laptop shut. Thank Gaga that kid moved away.

Aside from the panic-attack inducing Blaine incident, all went well on the flight to New York. Oh god, the people. There's droves of them. . .everywhere. Walking, rushing, driving, just there. I was having second thoughts in the taxi on my way to my apartment. Everything needed to be looked at, and Ii was more than happy to oblige, kind of being a typical tourist. My cabby was more than happy to tell stories linked to the structures, and I ate it up.

My apartment is nothing fancy, a single-bedroom apartment with a kitchen and bathroom. I can even see loads of sky and the twinkling lights of skyscrapers to keep me company. I managed to unpack the things that I'd brought in my carry-on bags, and enjoyed a meal of takeout on the small terrace I own.

I miss off of the friends I had back at home already, and I know they're only one phone call away. But, that doesn't substitute for the actual thing. Classes will be starting in a few days and I am needing to find work to pay for rent. In a sad way I miss living with my parents when I was at McKinley.

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><p><strong>AN:** It is rated M for future chapters, Blaine appears in the next chapter!

Reviews let me know if I'm doing anything right! Anything helps! =^.^=


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Hopefully I don't bomb this story, I will keep it going for as long as I can.

**Rating: **M for swearing and more alcohol.

**Summary:** With Kurt getting used to college, something has to happen. He's not sure if he's ready for this wrinkle in his past coming back to him.

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><p>The next three days went by fairly quickly, the rest of my things arrived in cardboard boxes in the mail, and it's starting to feel more like a home, <em>my<em> home. Everyone in Ohio is doing fine, though I was informed that Puck's wife of two years gave birth to a lovely baby girl. To be honest, I didn't expect him to be getting married, and settling down. I assumed he would crack skulls for a living, and frequent certain risqué clubs. But no, he is married to a quiet girl named Camille and is now a Daddy, weird.

I feel so old, seeing my friends fall in love and build homes. Considering my love life is non-existent, I have little or no chance of having a "happily-ever-after" any time soon. These thoughts were getting me depressed, so I rechecked my bag for tomorrow. Everything was in check for my beginning half-year of college, and I knew I was ready. My life is just starting.

The next morning was a whirl of rushing bus rides, and several blocks of walking to get to the building. I would need to streamline my route to school. I finally managed to find the main building. It seemed to glare down at me, and I felt like quaking in my knee-high boots.

The halls to the college bustled with people chattering to one another. I found my room with little help but for the numbers to rooms. It was on the fourth floor, and the only other people in the class were around five other men and women, ranging in size and age. The teacher introduced herself as Miss September McDonnelly in a slightly British-tinted accent.

"Welcome!" she chimed, "To Composition of The Human Body. This, as you know, is for those that wish to grasp a better understanding of the mechanics of motion and muscle. This class specialized in sketching and sculpting the human figure in-depth for artists and designers alike. As your first and largest assignment, we shall spend a few months of drawing a specific model in many different poses."

A few of the students seemed eager, and Ms. McDonnelly explained further.

"The human models are volunteers, or those that have been in this program before. They will be at random, and you may switch with another student at the beginning of the program as long as both consent. Tomorrow I expect you all to have a twelve by eighteen sketchpad, preferably heavy-weighted and various mediums. It doesn't matter to me how you draw them, or with what, just make sure to have twenty five detailed pieces to present on the last day of the class."

The next two hours of class were spent on the theory of model-drawing and various famous artists who used techniques. Miss McDonnelly looked like she could talk about these things for days, and the bell rang just as we were packing our things to switch classes. I only had two other classes during the day on different levels of the building, and then I had nothing more to do than to go back to my apartment.

My laptop whirred on my bedroom floor when I came home. I made myself a cup of coffee and plopped next to it. The memories of Blaine Anderson were still fresh in my head, and nagged incessantly at my conscience. We had dated, and everything had seemed perfect, like a fairytale. At Dalton, I had met one of the most endearing and warm people on earth. He had told me he felt the same way, and it was like all the puzzle pieces coming together.

Senior year was one of the better ones, we were together. Dalton had been great, though New Directions had beaten us again.

'_No,' _I thought, burying my head under the pillows.

'_I have class in the morning, I can't think of this.'_

The last thing to go through my head was Blaine's fact, contorted in rage and anger before sleep took me.

The next day at "Composition of The Human Body" was spent explaining the process to getting your human model. In empty rooms on this floor were models at random. Us students chose a number from a hat, by chance. With our sketchpads we could spend the next two or three months with them. I held my breath as I chose the paper. A rough '712' was crawled in black ink on it.

"Marvelous!" Miss McDonnelly said, directing me down the right hall, "Final door on the left."

I hefted my things and gently opened the door with the appropriate number above the frame.

It was a small room, draped with white sheets and white carpet. A woman sat on a folding chair. She looked up from her phone, a small smile played on her face. She stood and shook my hand.

"Hello, I'm Ginny Trev, you must be the artist," she said with a smile.

"Kurt Hummel, the pleasure is mine. Why don't we sit and talk about how this whole thing is going to pan-out," I said, the nerves slowly draining from my chest.

We sat and talked about poses and specific points. She was a stunning woman; bleached, croppy fair hair framing an almost elfish face, green, icy eyes and a slim figure completed the girl that was Ginny. I could've sworn I had seen a tongue piercing, but I didn't press the matter. We were setting up for the first piece when Miss September knocked on the boor. A slightly irked look on her face.

"Kurt, I'm sorry, but would you come out here for a moment?" I complied, a bit worried.

"A student is wanting to switch models, he doesn't care who. Would you be willing to start over? I can give you extra time if need-be."

I nodded automatically, not wanting to cause too much trouble on only the second day of classes. I gathered my things and said goodbye to Ginny a bit sadly.

Miss McDonnelly took me to the door of the person I would trade with. A slightly flustered boy exited, his thick-framed glasses hid his scrunched brows. He was a well-muscled boy, with red hair and freckles. He directed his attention to me.

"Thanks for doing this, I feel bad for forcing someone else to switch," he said, bowing his head low. I told him it was no problem, and he left with the teacher to go meet Ginny. I was now left alone to meet another new model. I wondered what had made the student switch partners so quickly. I felt fear crawl back to my toes. What if the person was _super_ menacing? Hard to work with? The possibilities for failure piled up in my mind.

'_Screw it,' _I thought, _'You're wasting time.' _

I grabbed the knob and swung into the room with more zest than necessary. My heart ceased to exist. My blood boiled and my sketchpad was in danger of being torn to nothing.

There, sitting on a wooden stool in a corner, arms crossed and staring at my frozen form from behind dark lashes. He was absolutely still, garbed in jeans and a grey T-shirt. My high school ex-boyfriend, and the ruiner-of-lives, Blaine Anderson.

He must've recognized me, and a kind of shocked silence came from him. I locked eyes with him, giving my best attempt at outright hatred.

'_Keep it professional,' _my ever-faithful conscience whispered.

'_Fuck it, why is he here?' _I thought, groaning inwardly.

I pressed my body to move, and broke eye contact, moving to a table along the side of the room. I cleared my throat and began to arrange my equipment.

"Alright, let's get started. My name's Kurt-"

"I know your name, Kurt, I'm not some inconsiderate jerk like that," Blaine interjected, annoyance in the tone.

"Funny, you don't say?" I laid it on thick.

That kept him quiet enough to get a decent view to begin my portrait. Assignments were assignments. I didn't want to draw him realistically, he belonged with something associated as ugly. It hurt to draw his chiseled features, to capture the glint in his eye that I beheld hundreds of times at Dalton Academy. I was not aware he had been talking to me.

"Kurt?" he said, twisting in his seat.

"Don't move, what do you want?" not meeting his eye to continue to shade the rough outline.

"I said that I'm not like that, being bitter won't make it any better," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Well then, I'm glad we figured that out, three _years _too late," I said with obvious venom.

"No, listen! Kurt, I'm trying to ease your pain-"

"Thank you, Mr. Anderson, I'll be seeing you tomorrow. Thank you for your time," I said, collecting my things and leaving. As the door swung shut I swear I heard a sniffle and a low sob. I am such a villain.

That soured the rest of my day, and I didn't feel like eating. When I got back to my apartment, a message was waiting on my phone. It was Mercedes, I needed to call her. I dialed and waited for her to pick up.

"Hello?" Mercedes' voice said. I immediately felt much calmer.

"Hey, 'Cedes, how's it going?"

"Kurt? It's damn-good to hear from you, I miss your face," she said with a laugh.

"Same, New York isn't fun, it's all work."

"What did I tell you; go see some sight, take pictures and go clubbin'!"

"Because that's totally me," I snarked.

"Yes, because the Kurt I know likes taking chances and having fun," Mercedes elaborated.

"Yeah, well, I'll have to talk later, lots of things to do. Bye Mercedes."

"Alright, bye Kurt. Have some fun!" I heard before my phone snapped shut.

I couldn't tell her about Blaine, at least not yet. She would raise hell and flip it over. I exhaled the stress while reading e-mails.

'_Maybe I could have a little fun,' _I though, browsing New York Club websites.

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><p>The following days I dreaded that "Composition" class, and longed for Friday. Blaine would choose the pose, and I would comply, though I thought it should be the other way around. He kept asking me questions about everything. How Carol and Dad were, Finn, Glee friends, college, jobs and my appearance. I had to be polite and ask the same, and found out he was going to college to be a counselor, and working towards his degree as well. He had moved to New York a year before myself, and didn't talk too much to his parents. However, one comment on the Friday morning made me flustered.<p>

"Have you dated a lot?" he asked from his reclined position.

"I haven't had the time, but you have, correct?" I answered automatically.

". . . Yes, how'd you know?"

"A think called Facebook, is he your lover?" I said, fusing my brow together to capture a specifically difficult part of his jaw line with the pastel.

"No! We are through," he said, averting my gaze.

"So it seems," I said absentmindedly.

That was the end of conversation for the rest of our time. I hastily sped back to our homeroom to meet the rest of the class. Considering there were only six of us, we bonded fairly quickly. Two girls and four guys made up our motley crew. They were all seated in a circle, obviously done for the day. They all greeted me. They had been talking about going out.

"I say we go to Temptation," said Ashley, a tall girl with rectangular glasses and a passion for heels.

"No way," said Emily, the other girl in the class who always straightened her already waist-length hair, "Nightshade is supposed to be totally awesome."

"I've heard good things about it," said George, the red-head who switched with me, "I'm up for it."

"If no one else has plans, I'll go," Maxwell agreed, his dark brown swoop of hair covering one of his eyes.

The other boy, Gregor, said he could go. They all turned to me.

"Kurt," Emily said, I perked my head up," Can you come?"

I debated, biting my lip. With a slow nod, the plan was set in motion. At midnight, we would meet at Emily's place and walk from there to the club. Her apartment was the closest, and we wouldn't need to direct drunken messes into a taxi. We exchanged phone numbers and carried on with the rest of our day.

Three hours of getting ready and I was presentable. A collared shirt and fitted vest were rolled up to the elbows. My favorite jeans were accompanied by lace-up boots. I had checked what type of club it was online, lots of dancing and semi-formalities. After two there was supposedly more '_eccentric'_ tastes about, but that just made it more fun, right?

In around fifteen minutes by taxi, I arrived at Emily's apartment complex. I found my way to her place to find it was only her and Ashley.

They both looked stunning. Emily in a black tiered dress with grey lace stockings and a rather large bow in her hair (which was in a massive and descending braid.) Ashley was wearing a milky lace tunic-dress and heels that looked like they could impale someone. The rest of the guys arrived within twenty minuets. They all wore gelled, well-combed hair in dress shirts and jeans or corduroys. We all left the complex in high spirits.

The brief walk to the club passed and I found myself inside the club. I was holding a shot-glass and had a hand on Maxwell as he kept down his third dose of the stuff. I was amazed. The atmosphere was suffocating, people shifted and swelled like a sea of bodies. Up higher, silhouettes were visible, most likely dancers. They swayed and gyrated to the thumping bass.

In a flash, Maxwell was gone. The rest of them had gone off to intermingle until we had to leave at three in the morning. I was alone at a club full of unknown people. I took the shot, and ordered something light to sip on. I became part of the human sea, twisting and attempting to dance in ways I haven't done since Glee club. The alcohol made my body all warm and fuzzy, yet icy and cool. Two o'clock had passed and the lights dimmed. The stage and small walkways glowed and sparkled through the throngs of people. The dancers from above me were now going through the catwalks, pulling off evocative moves or sporting some sort of special garb. One girl swayed on the pathway with a massive feather boa dangling on her shoulders, another man was in nothing more than a small pair of shorts.

By now the club had thinned out, and close to one hundred people remained, seated on leather benches or holding drinks and watching the dancers, well, dance.

I bought another drink, spotting Emily and Gregor practically making out in a far corner of the massive room. I started to carefully make my way over, and a cool index finger brushed up and down my spine. I wriggled to get away, it must've been a mistaken touch, lots of slightly intoxicated people. A hand caught my arm and held it steady, and a familiar voice hoarsely whispered into my ear.

"Follow me," Blaine said, releasing my arm and I watched him disappear into the crowd.

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><p><strong>dun Dun DUN!<strong>

**A/N:** I thank everyone who faves this story or reviews, or even looks! I just love this couple too much, and it saddened me that there was no Klaine in 'Funeral' but rewatching 'Original Songs' is still soooo great!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: I ended up rewriting this scene a few times, but I should keep the figurative ball rolling. I apologize for not updating sooner, but the last two weeks of school is killing me. X.X

**Rating**: M for swearing and yes, more alcohol.

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><p>"Follow me," Blaine said, releasing my arm and watching him disappear into the crowd. My vision was hazy as I followed a little cautious. The crowds parted easily, and I was able to see Blaine's head bobbing into a door.<p>

As the door closed behind me, I found myself in a stairwell. Everything was painted black and green neon lined the stairs. His retreating form was going up the stairwell. He stopped halfway, looking back with a half-lidded luster in his eyes.

I caught up with him.

"What're we doing here? What are _you_ doing here?" my words slurred a bit.

"Let's go in this room," his face was serene, and no slurring was in it.

My breathing hitched.

"What's in there? What're we gonna do?" (Looking back, I was a bit drink at this point.)

Blaine chuckled, guiding me to the room into the dimly lit nothing.

In better lighting, I could now see what he was wearing. His tank-top easily displayed all of the compacted muscles hiding just beneath the cloth. Skinny jeans elongated his legs, and sneakers fitted his feet, even drunk I can still notice these things about people.

"Kurt, why are you here?" Blaine asked, guiding me to a coffee table that had a small cot next to it.

"Do you live here?" I asked, allowing myself to be seated while Blaine offered me a water bottle.

I hesitated, then took it, murmuring a 'thank-you.'

"I'll answer later, but what are you doing here?" Blaine pressed the question, sitting next to me with a slightly worried face. I swallowed again.

"I-I was here with some friends from college, whatsittoya?"

"Because, Kurt, I'm pretty sure you would've been torn apart out there," he continued when he saw my disbelieving expression, "that show at two is some intense stuff, and you, well, stood out. People pick up on that, and I swear I saw several eyes following you."

"Okay, duly noted. Don't get lost in clubs. . .drunk. My turn for a question; why are you here, how do you know this stuff?" I asked with a skeptical glance.

He looked a bit stunned, but quickly regained himself.

"I know a couple of the guys who work here, I'm trying to counsel them. I'm a counselor, get it?"

"You're not drunk?" I asked, remembering all of the party pictures posted on Facebook.

"I can't be, if I could do something like this," he said, leaning in close.

Our lips collided, chastely and soft. I remembered these kisses Blaine would give, reassuring and simple. I'd devoted much time to interpreting Blaine's intimate gestures back when we had been together. I pulled away first, giving a little sigh. I realized what we done as the feelings settled like heavy weights in my gut.

"Blaine. . . I."

"I just wanted to see if we were still able to feel anything," Blaine said quietly, a small smile tugging his mouth upwards, he continued.

"Anyways, I should let you go, it's getting early. Don't fall down the stairs, take them slow."

I still felt stunned, but the alcohol didn't help as I bumbled out into the club, finding my friends waiting for me near the bar. Ashley and Emily appeared worried, but I simply apologized and we all walked back to Emily's apartment.

I awoke that early Saturday morning in a stupor of pain and exhaustion. The clock at my bedside proclaimed it was eight o'clock, time to get up and see if I could get any work. I had been accepted to work as a barista at a coffee shop, I was to start next Wednesday.

While I waited for the shower to warm up, I popped some ibuprofen with a cup of coffee.

The rest of the night had been spent walking down the now cool and breezy streets of New York. I never bothered to ask Gregor about him and Emily, but every now and then they would give sly smiles to each other. I remember little after I entered my apartment, but the affectionate gaze of a certain mop-headed boy wracked my conscience..

What was sad, was that I wasn't sure if I'd responded or not. Hell, I'd even had the nerve to put myself into that situation.

That way he walked, the words he said, it was all too surreal. That kiss had sealed my fate. In that one motion, I was that un-sexy boy still new to the world of sensuality. In a way, Blaine had brought me into romance, and it bothered me to no end to know he still had that effect on me. I sipped my coffee and could still feel the blush invading my cheeks at the thought of him. Shining and glistening, a celestial being with his infectious gaze on me. Why this was, is beyond me.

I showered, hoping all the emotions would wash down the drain with the soap-suds.

The hours dragged on in my apartment with little news from home. Puck's newborn was well, if not a but accustomed to being held and rocked constantly. She was their first child, need I say more? I still had told no one about Blaine, and I was starting to feel a bit isolated while the autumn weather grew steadily windy. All of my work was caught up, and several pictures of Blaine awaited against the bedroom wall to be turned in.

I opened my e-mail once more, seeing a more personal title than the usual junk and casual stuff:

_Last Night, Yea. . . _

'_Blaine,' _I thought, 'What do you want from me?'

The e-mail itself was very tentative, shy and wary. Blaine apologized from our random kiss at Nightshade, profusely. At the very end, he finally asked if I would meet him at a coffee shop a few blocks from my college building.

This could either go very well, or. . .

I pushed the thoughts away, farther, farther. Just agree and get it over with. With an exasperated sigh I typed a quick reply, I would meet him in an hour. I would give him an hour to talk and explain, then I would leave and continue my day with a reward for putting up with this. Perhaps a new bowtie, or a scarf, these thoughts seemed to put my anger towards Blaine to rest.

I went into the coffee shop a bit early, taking a more secluded spot. I was reminded of our runs to the Lima Bean, and I cursed to myself that he might've been doing this on purpose. He calmly entered, his face serene and comfortable. I continued to stare, while attempting to give away no emotion.

We greeted each other, awkwardly, and sat across from one another.

"Kurt," I looked up into those golden brown eyes, "I want to say some things, and then you can say as much as you like, afterwards." Seeing no protest from me, he shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

"Kurt, I know we know that we haven't been on the best of terms for the past three years. That time, right before we broke up. . . I felt like you were drifting away from me, you seemed so far away. Yes, I could feel you when we met, but we both changed."

"Blaine, I'm sorry. . .for interrupting. However, I think that's untrue and you know it. You stopped kissing me, and how could you just pick up and leave? That day you called me half yelling and crying, and told me I couldn't see you anymore. The hell?"

"I-I. . .know, and believe me, Kurt, I am so sorry for doing that to you for no apparent reason. But my father was, confused. . ." he said, averting my gaze.

"H-He didn't find out about us-" I gasped.

"No, no, never about us,' he stammered, "He just became concerned about me."

"Blaine, you and I both know that's bull, then why were you tripping yourself over that other man?"

"Cameron, he was, too complicated for me to hold onto. He was someone I didn't even bother to know about. He became my outlet, he was into partying and clubbing. I king of got swept away," he said bitterly at his coffee.

'I see, I see, poor you,' I thought with equal bitterness. I simply sighted while an elderly woman eyed me from a few tables over.

"So you still have feelings for him?" I asked firmly.

"I-I. . .no, at least not like I felt when I was with you."

"There's fifteen minutes left, explain fast," I said with an obvious glance to my phone.

"Surely you remember. I mean, we were together and, no matter how bad my day was, seeing you and being able to touch you gave me all the happiness and good emotions to last me for forever.'

"What differentiates me from Cameron?" I asked.

"Oh, I can't explain, with him it was all feeling something only after we'd. . .gotten intimate. And you, well, you were all feelings, emotions drove every decision for you, it amazed me," Blaine gently touched the tips of my fingers.

"Well. . .flattery will get you nowhere, but thank you for the clarification. Nice seeing you," I stood up, but Blaine's fingers clasped my own; urgent and needy.

"Kurt, look, I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry for not answering your calls, I'm sorry for causing you all that pain and sadness. If you won't accept that, it's fine. But don't leave without telling me what I can do to, if nothing else, to be your friend again," Blaine pleaded, his triangular eyebrows scrunched together.

"Just, be honest with me Blaine, I think I deserve at least that much from you. Otherwise, I see nothing wrong with calling you my friend. Don't get your hopes too high though, I'm moving away in a few months, anyway," he released my hand. He gave me one of his 'brave-faced' smiles and I had to return it with a forced grin.

God, this is awkward.

I said goodbye right there, and left still puzzled at how Blaine-freaking-Anderson had dropped in front of me. And, I was now friends with him again.

It would still be nothing like at Dalton, our best-friendship was a product of communication and honesty. We were the epitome of trust and care. It only seemed natural for us to start dating at Dalton. We had had our first kiss up in that common room, chaste, yet an open door for our slightly awkward relationship. For almost a year and a half we were together, senior year was the height of our relationship. I was able to begin college early, and with Blaine there with me, what couldn't I do?

I frowned down at my shoes as the traffic of the crosswalk took me into the current. I don't know why I agreed to be friends with him, but I figured it was the right thing to do. At least until I am finished with this model assignment.

'_Then I can go back to normal,' _I thought with an inward sigh.

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><p><strong>AN**: I thank every one of you for reviewing or faving this story. Keep up the reviewing, it lets me know if I'm doing anything right.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** It's going to get better from here, I promise.

**Rating:** M when Kurt recalls some sexy time.:) Brief smut scene with dashes of fluff.

**Disclaimer:** I'm kind of late, but if you can't tell, I don't own Glee. It would be full of Klaine and nothing would hurt.

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><p>As I arrived back at my apartment, my phone began to buzz, Mercedes again.<p>

"Hello?" I said, trying to be polite.

"Helloooo! Kurt, how's the Big Apple? Hot guys? Good art? . . . Hot guys?" I laughed at her, replying jokingly that they were everywhere. She informed me that everyone was doing fine in Lima, fine and cozy. Though Rachel was still road-tripping to Las Vegas with her boyfriend and manager, Trenton, and no one has heard from her in a few weeks. So we all could just assume that she was doing fine. She quickly asked me how school was, and if I'd made friends.

I took a tentative breath.

"Well, I've sort of met someone, and I'm super-surprised to find him, but-"

"Omigod! Kurt! Who is it? Is he tall, short, handsome, suave, country-boy? Is he an art student? A foreigner?" I managed to calm Mercedes and her questions so she could actually find out. I calmed my mind, and with a slight wince, blurted out the words.

"It's Blaine."

Silence; not good.

"Hold up. . . Blaine Warbler? The boyfriend you had in high school? The one that dropped you like a hot potato? That Blaine?"

Through the slurs and curses under her breath, Mercedes only asked me one question.

"Kurt, how the hell did you two meet? In New York of all places." I pondered that myself way too many times to count.

"Well, 'Cedes, it sort-of started with this project in art class. It was mostly chance, or some weird coincidence," I explained everything that Blaine had told me, finding that speaking all of my emotions seemed to make myself fell better, lighter somehow. It took me nearly an hour to get all of the facts worked straight. Mercedes, surprisingly, remained quiet, only talking when she wanted to give affirmation she understood.

As I slowed, and the story-telling was through, she finally spoke.

"That is. . .wow," she exhaled.

"I know! What do I do?"

". . . Take it slow. Remember at Dalton? You and Blaine were going at a snail's pace. Now, I don't expect you to do that necessarily. Blaine an e as dashing and dapper as his gelled head can possibly be, but don't you ever think that you are still that unsure kid I met at McKinley. Kurt, you're an adult, and you have your own agenda."

"That's, actually what I needed to hear, Mercedes, you are such an awesome friend," I sighed into the receiver, seeing that the time had been passing faster and faster, "Sorry, I need to turn in for the night, apologies if I kept you up."

Are you kidding me? Everything in Ohio is so 'ho-hum,' hearing about New York keeps me sane. Bye Kurt."

" 'Kay, bye Mercedes," I chuckled before hanging up.

Obviously I had much more to contemplate that what I'd first thought of.

'_Great,' _I thought as my head hit the pillows with a slight huff, _'I don't need this. Kurt Hummel shouldn't need this, I thought this is supposed to be so much easier.'_

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><p>I had a strange dream, or it wasn't particularly a dream, but I happened to remember the night when Blaine and I had gotten home from an 'End-of-The-School-Year-Super-Party-Extravaganza' at Puck's house for the Glee kids and the Warblers as a sort of joined party for the end of senior year. I hadn't had anything to drink, and Blaine had made a mental note to not drink as much, remembering his awful drunken-mess episode at Rachel Berry's house.<p>

_We were both clear-headed and as we entered my house after leaving the party. Finn was staying at Puck's house to clean up the aftermath in the morning, and Burt and Carole were on an impromptu vacation for the rest of the week._

_I had entered first, and Blaine had locked the door, giving a lusty glance to sweep over my body before capturing my arms in his. Our lips had crashed together, his tongue probing my lips hastily, demanding access while he ran his slightly rough hands up and down my sides. Those warm lips glided across my cheek, down to my collarbone. Lapping at the now flushed skin of it. I uttered a moan, I remembered he savored those noises I made._

_"God, you are so unbelievably sexy," he had said into the shell of my ear while lifting up the dress shirt I was wearing, "it's ridiculous."_

_"Honestly. . .you're like a greedy child," I had sighed into his touch, feeling my muscles twitching and relaxing of their own accord._

_"I know what I want," he had laughed mockingly, giving our already close bodies a quick thrust, increasing the friction and heat of our already sweating bodies. Blaine continued to capture my skin in his hands, getting further and further down until his fingers were tapping at my belt buckle anxiously. I stayed his hands for a moment, my head clearing for but a second._

_He began to whine, making a pouting face, until I began pull him upstairs. Then he was practically yanking me up the staircase to my room. The door slammed shut and he pressed our bodies together against the cool feel of the wood. The darkness closed around us, but through the pale moonlight that had shone through, Blaine glowed with an abnormal solemnity. I wasn't sure if I was doing the same, but he affirmed that quickly._

_"You look beautiful in the moonlight," Blaine said, thrusting his hips dangerously close so I could feel his already ridiculously apparent arousal. I gasped at the feeling of my shirt being lifted off of my shoulders, Blaine's shirt material skimming my fair skin. Blaine looked me over, his eyes doing things to me that made me squirm to be under his scrutiny._

_"You like something you see, Mr. Warbler?" I had said, giving him a small tug to go towards the freshly-made bed. Blaine said nothing in reply, but uttered a small whistle. We both laid down, Blaine beginning to trace little circles into my sensitive stomach, I resisted the urge to pull away from the contact. He was straddling me, and I felt slightly embarrassed for him to feel how turned on I was by this disheveled boy currently latching his mouth to the spot on my neck that always left me moaning and speaking nothing but gibberish._

_"Don't be such. . .a tease. . .god," I breathed, clutching at the sheets wildly while he undid my pants and slid them down and onto the floor. He then took a moment to retract his mouth, much to my protest, and did the same for himself. His body was a thing of beauty, perfect and sculpted. Not necessarily from working out, but from being healthy and fit. The contours of his stomach made me look like a plush animal. I was all soft while his arms flexed and jumped while they came down on me in a crushing hug. My body naturally cradled along with his, spooning one another as he whispered jumbled things amidst kisses and lapping. I complied, kissing him, wanting to drink in his skin, the smell was unlike anything I'd beheld. Something like lavender and lilacs wrapped in human form and infused into this skin._

_"Kurt, so hot. . .god, you're so fucking. . .amazing, can I?" he said, bending low over my abdomen. My breathing hitched. I only allowed myself to nod as a response, because I didn't trust myself I could make a coherent sentence._

_As his lips slowly reached further and further down, and he covered me in kisses, white spots erupted in my line of vision. Everything blurred, and my hands threaded into his mop of curls, the gel and product long worked out of it by the partying and daily events. He did things with his mouth that made my back arch and words to come spilling out in rivers randomly from my lips. He held me steady, and stars sparked and ignited through my haze of heat and sweat, sending my body into twitching and spasms._

_Through the rest of the night we connected, physically and emotionally. I could understand the being that was Blaine Anderson, and he understood me. For a few precious hours, we were vulnerable to each other and open, unafraid. As he had rocked inside me, groaning and as I mewled in pleasure, he whispered the words. So fairy light, I had almost barely heard them._

_"I love you."_

_I felt a warm and tingling sensation ripple through me. I held him closer._

_"I love you, as well."_

_He smiled, and the room shone a little brighter. My glassy eyes met with his, and we kissed through the pain and pleasure. They were deep, slow and it felt like we were mapping out the other's mouth, storing the information away for future use. The very touch made my skin simmer and sizzle, and the memory faded away into a night of mutual love, touching, and few regrets._

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><p>I sat up in my bed, groaning at the thoughts swirling in my subconscious. I tried to subdue my accidental arousal, finding it harder to curb than I thought. I covered my head with a pillow, blushing deeper.<p>

'_I'm an adult,' _I thought, _'Flurried high school relationships shouldn't make me feel this way.'_

'_Blaine, why do you do this to me?'_

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><p><strong>AN**: Expect some development in the coming chapters. I'm not sure how I'm going to go about this. I appreciate looking or reviewing or faving!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Alright, I'm going to be honest, this makes me blush just reading it. It's like, my first smut scene yet, and I'm a bit anxious about it. Please to tell me what to do or what would help!

**Rating:** M for smutty smut and as much fluff as my Klaine-meter would allow.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee at all, or any of these incredibly dapper and cute characters. If I did, it would be Klaine .episode.

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><p>I gave an exasperated sigh as I walked into the modeling room on Monday morning. Blaine wasn't there yet, since I had come in early to set up for a more challenging pose that would involve specific lighting and such and such. I didn't feel anxious to see him, but a small tinge of doubt was buried deeply within my brain. I didn't want things to be awkward between us, or I guess I didn't want it to become any more awkward than we already were. My little incident on Saturday was far behind me, covered over by the mundane simplicity of a Sunday off. I had actually spent the remainder of the day double and triple-checking all of my homework that would be due soon.<p>

I had realized at how much of a fool I had been on Friday night, and wanted to get that specific part of me out of Blaine's memory, for good. So, I dressed as nicely and perfectly as possible. No one can go wrong with a bowtie and a vest, right?

'_Just keep telling yourself that, Kurt,' _I thought to myself, wincing as the door opened behind me from where I was adjusting my things on the table provided.

I heard a slight exhale of breath, and I could almost feel Blaine's eyes boring into the back of my skull. It made me feel like a bug under a microscope, to not know how you were being judged and what the verdict was, to say the least.

"You, look nice," Blaine murmured, placing something on the table. A familiarly bitter scent wafted up and teased at my nose. I replied with a 'thank-you,' and turned to see what he had. He was holding up two drinks in white cups in his gloved hands.

"I just. . .thought, since it was cold, might as well warm up a little, right?" Blaine said with a small smile, holding one cup out to me in an outstretched hand.

"Yes, but, you know. . .you didn't have to do this," I said, gratefully taking it from him and inhaling the coffee I had partaken so many times in high school. He still remembered my order? Though I vaguely remembered his, I was taken aback at the gesture.

"Of course, I'm aware. But like I said, it was cold, and it helps us warm up. I hope you still like the same thing," he waved it off like it was nothing, sitting nonchalantly into a swivel-chair.

"Well, thank you very much," I said, trying to sound meek, forcing myself to take small sips of the nostalgically sweet and bitter liquid. I forced down the lump in my throat, clearing it and walking over to sit next to Blaine. We said nothing for a few minutes. Before I knew it, my cup was empty, and I was directing Blaine where to sit and how to do it.

I envisioned a very boyish, child-like pose, sitting Indian-style, but Blaine wouldn't comply easily.

"I don't. . .know, like this?" he said, arching his back with his legs splayed quite blatantly in front of me. I narrowed my eyes as he continued to fidget and change his pose every few seconds. Somehow he ended up on his stomach, the cloth of his turtleneck riding up so that his lower back was showing. He left it as I rolled my eyes, sending a small prayer to the gods of fashion to make turtlenecks longer next time.

"No, no. . .Blaine," I said, standing up and walking to him, gripping his shoulder. He began to get up grudgingly, but my legs became intertwined with his, and I found myself falling on top of his chest. I had no hope of catching myself, and with a small huff, I scrambled to get off of the stockier man beneath me. Our faces were dangerously close, and Blaine's hands came up to grasp at my wrist, steadying me while I was forced closer to him. His breathing tickled my face, and I desperately wanted to get off of him, run away from here.

I gave a small yelp when Blaine yanked my arm sharply, allowing all of my weight to settle on his body. I became aware of his lips and mouth now pressed deeply onto my neck.

"Oh, Gaga, Blaine…I'm so sorry-"

My words were cut short by the tentative kiss Blaine placed on my mouth. Every emotion came rushing back to me, barreling down my better judgment. I'd forgotten the shot of warmth that courses through you, the slight haze in the air.

…

I kissed him back, intertwining our fingers while I could feel Blaine's kiss become more heated. I pulled back, but not before he swiped his tongue low against the tips of my teeth, I shuddered at the contact. My breathing became slightly labored as his had as well, we stared at one another.

"Please tell me that you felt something," Blaine said, clutching his free hand in my hair like it was spun from the most expensive gold. I could say nothing, but nodded while I dipped lower. The tips of our noses skimmed against the other's cheek while I wrapped my arms around his muscular torso. My body had been starved of this curly-haired phenomenon, and my mind felt surprisingly calmed. There, it was that smell, just the faintest hint of flowers on Blaine's skin. It was heavenly and all that was good in my life, seated right under me, quite literally.

My position on top of him was not permanent, and I knew Blaine would claim his designated spot on top. That's how it always had been, and, to be honest, I couldn't imagine it any other way. Blaine was meant to be the dominant, and while I prided myself in being a diva, I had always been happy to submit. He did this even now, the stocky, yet muscular frame coaxing the parts of myself out I was sure were long forgotten. I stretched my legs out, while he bent low to my ear.

"Are you able to continue?" he asked me, his voice becoming lower and seemed promising that more would happen if I were to say yes. I took a deep breath, clasping my hand onto his cheek and forehead.

"Y-Yes, please, Blaine," I murmured, staring into the pools of murky brown and hazel that seemed to be in wonder at something. Perhaps it was me, I'm not sure.

He laughed lightly, moving his head and pressing his lips to my open palm. I gasped, and stifled a small noise as the pad of his tongue tentatively trailed down my wrist. A slightly cool feeling ensued while I hyperventilated, enthralled at the seductive and very un-dapper man on top of me. He stopped, coming back up to my hand, massaging the tip of my index finger with his tongue. I stifled a moan at what happened next.

He engulfed the entire digit in his mouth, his mouth swirling around it while he stared at me, expecting a reaction. Seeing he almost had one, he grinned, mockingly and coy to see me resisting so much. The contact was brief, and soon my hands were released from their slightly oral onslaught. I opened my mouth to protest, but my shirt was brought up over my head, Blaine grinning again. He quickly removed his own shirt. I bet my eyes almost popped out of their sockets. He was still as beautiful as ever, tanned skin skimming against my own. I looked like I was made out of marble, and he was some beautiful, earthy color.

"What's wrong? Why are you blushing?" he asked, as if having an already hard man on top of me wouldn't put a little color to my cheeks.

"I just. . .I mean, you are so perfect, _too_ perfect," I breathed, running a hand over his almost chiseled stomach. It made every part of myself quiver and shake, just having him be right here. He bent down low again, and dragged that precise tongue across my collarbone to my chest. I threaded my hands in his hair, moaning small amounts of praise in his direction to compensate for my lack of skill in this area.

Blaine would make small groans, or growls in my direction, signs that he was enjoying this too as we tangled and heaved out deep breaths. His mouth was down at my navel, tensing the sensitive flesh beneath teasingly. I happened to let loose a particularly loud sigh, and I became aware of the footsteps that would occasionally pass by our door. I immediately appalled that the door was unlocked, and someone could have walked in on us.

I quickly gave a little shove, forcing Blaine off of me, though he was already brushing his fingers on the buttons to my pants. I scrambled, and flipped the lock, and exhaled out of relief. My breathing hitched as I felt Blaine at my back, _all_ of himself pressed flush against my shoulders and lower back.

"You are too adorable," he breathed against the outline of my ear, his head brushing against mine affectionately.

"Honestly, can't you think of something better to call me? It makes me feel like some plaything, or a child's doll," I exasperated, twisting so that our chests collided, our skin sticking slightly from the contact and the heat.

"But you are my plaything, you are a porcelain doll, to be treasured. . .forever," he whispered. I felt the warmth spread in my belly to every inch of skin on my body.

Blaine kissed up my cheek, tilting up to latch his mouth onto mine, kissing deeply. Our tongues found each other, exploring and savoring the feeling of the other. Our arms intertwined, I found myself gasping as we broke the contact. Blaine slumped to the ground, breathing heavily as he fumbled and peeled my skinny jeans down to my knees.

"Oh god, I need this. It's like last time," he said, referencing that night three and a half years ago. He didn't look for affirmation of the request, but proceeded to pull down my briefs and took me in. He grinned wickedly, and kissed the tip. I shuddered frantically at the touch, remembering how amazing it felt. He took me in, apparently not hindered by things like gag reflexes or patience. My vision was ridged with white and I quickly forgot how dirty this was considered. I moved, keeping my hands in the mop of curls while Blaine quickly rendered me speechless in seconds.

It wasn't long until I was seizing up, rigid, as Blaine swirled his tongue once more and I quietly called out his name. He released me, allowing me to slump to the floor, the cool of the carpet soaking in my heated body. Blaine bent down on top of me again, and kissed me, raking his fingers up and down my sides, leaving long red marks that wouldn't bleed, but would last for a few hours. I hissed my pleasure, while he removed my jeans all of the way, and he did the same for his own.

As his own briefs came off, I tried not to stare, but found my eyes drawn to his own obvious arousal. I remembered he always had me beat in girth, but it still made me incredibly turned-on by the fact that he had that much to pack.

"Are you still wanting to, go on?" I asked warily, seeing his expectant gaze turned up to full blast.

"Are you kidding me? Yes, yes, yes," he said, trapping me in a gracious hug. He released me, and left briefly to dig for something in his satchel. He pulled out a condom, rolling it on and applying something.

"Wait, you _planned_ for this?" I said, my eyebrow raising, and his sheepish smile confirmed my question.

"What can I say? I need to stay prepared." I let out a small laugh, pulling him in for another hug, as I felt my mind land in the clouds when pressure sent my skin aflame again.

Within fifteen minutes, he slowly readied himself, my legs on top of his thighs, winding about his waist like a child. I was gasping once more, breathless and without coherent words, I was useless for communication.

"Alright, ready?" he said, pressing into me.

"Y-Yes. . .yeah, I don't have classes until noon" I said, flustered beyond belief.

In one motion he was inside of me, so full and unimaginably wonderful. I cried out, biting my knuckle to overcome the pain of the experience. Blaine kissed me on the shoulder, leaving imprints of his teeth all across the muscle of my collarbone. Small flowers of blue and purple appeared, he marked me whilst moving in a rhythmic motion. His hips connecting with my backside with every jerk of his torso. I mewled while he twitched inside of me, I don't remember being this blissfully unaware.

He continued for some time, until every part of himself was strained, and with a small sigh, collapsed on top of me. I breathed through the haze, giving an exhausted smile up at the man who had been my first love, practically my only love. The sweat pooled on top of us, slicked us as the hallways outside were drastically silent. I'm not sure if I should be thankful or a bit skeptical, but Blaine raised his weary eyes to me, asking for my attention.

"That was, amazing," he praised, cupping my face in his slightly rough hands, brushing his digits across my light skin. He kissed me once more, gingerly, and I could practically taste the sweat and sex on his lips. I kissed back, hoping the flavor lingered yet on my own mouth.

"We should. . .probably get up, you need to go to classes," Blaine said, sitting up heavily, reaching for our discarded clothes.

"I don't know, I think I may feel a tad sick. Wouldn't want to get others sick with my germs," I said, feigning a small cough.

Blaine stared, and gave another smile, before planting one more kiss on my cheek.

"Too adorable."

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><p><strong>AN:** Thank you all for putting up with this, and coming this far! I thought everyone needed a sort of reward for reading this far into the story. So, hope you like! Reviewing is much appreciated!


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